Angel of Darkness
by Frodo01228
Summary: The Darkness has taken over Sparta, one of the larger towns in the world of Agressia, but it had no plans on stopping there. See story for full summary. Set in alternate world. Rating to be safe.
1. Chapter 1: The Angel of Darkness

**Author's Note: **_I'm not entirely sure what this idea was born from, but I kind of like it. I really can't say where this story is going right now, and for all I know, this may be the only chapter. I just thought I'd put this up to see what people thought of it._

**Summary:** _The Darkness has taken over Sparta, one of the larger towns in the world of Agressia, but it had no plans on stopping there. It wanted to cover the world, and the only thing standing in its way was Daniel. When Samantha runs into him while attempting to retrieve his weapon from a home in Sparta, she escapes with him to Crete to discover more about the Darkness and to show Daniel that you don't have to be alone to defeat evil._

**Chapter 1: **_The Angel of Darkness_

Samantha walked quickly down the dark streets, clutching a large clay pot tightly to her. The Manson's didn't often send her out alone at night on errands like this. Slaves had a habit of disappearing at night, taken by the Darkness. No one really knew what the Darkness was or what it wanted, but the Darkness reigned over Sparta with an iron fist. No crime save those the Darkness allowed were committed, and the rich that lived here were happy enough with the Darkness presiding over them. Evil ran rampant with such an invisible government, something that the Darkness seemed to feed off. It grew more powerful as Sparta fell deeper into wickedness. The stars no longer shined in Sparta, something Samantha felt had been a punishment to this wicked land, but the Darkness had only consumed the skies completely so that even the moon had to fight to be seen.

It had begun to snow as Samantha had left the flour mill behind, and her bare feet froze more and more with each step. Her tattered dress did little to protect her from the elements, and she hugged the pot tighter simply because it offered a bit of warmth from sitting so long inside the warm mill. She paused suddenly, glancing about her. She could feel eyes on her, but she couldn't understand who else would be out here on such a cold night in the middle of the snow. Then she shivered, moving on once more. She knew the rumors well of the Darkness's minions that kidnapped people found on the streets after dark. No one knew what happened to them after the minions took them—or at least the slaves didn't know what happened to them. The masters of such slaves didn't really seem to care. The slave would be easily replaced. Samantha walked faster, heart pounding in her chest. Could it be her imagination, or were their footsteps following hers?

She uttered a cry as she suddenly lurched forward, tripping over a curb that she couldn't see in the growing mounds of snow. She fell, catching herself on her arms before she could smack her face on the cement, eyes closed tightly as she waited for the sound of breaking clay. The sound never came, and she opened her eyes. The first thing she saw surprised her: a pair of gray boots, laced up to the figure's mid-calf. She slowly followed the boots up, eyes widening. A cloaked figure stood before her, holding the jar she had dropped. The face couldn't be seen under the shadow of the hood; only strange, glowing lime-green eyes broke up the black figure of whoever it might be standing before her. The figure shifted the pot to the crook of one arm, holding out a gloved hand to her. They were biker gloves, only covering the hand up to the knuckles. She wondered momentarily why this person's hands weren't cold before carefully grasping the hand in her own.

"You should be more careful next time," a masculine voice said as he pulled her to her feet. Her face flushed, and she lowered her gaze to the floor, trying to ignore the blood now trickling down her leg from her scraped knee. "It's pretty cold out tonight, and you shouldn't be walking around barefoot in the snow anyway." He held out the pot to her which she quickly took, hugging it tightly to her. "You go right home, and you stay there."

She nodded, barely managing to stutter out a thank you before she hurried off once more. The icy air made her knee sting, but she hurried on, breathing a sigh of relief as the large mansion came into view. She didn't even have to imagine what kind of punishment would be in store for her for taking so long. Master Jeremy loved punishing her, and he had begun to use every small thing she did wrong as a chance to do so. She usually received a slap across the face or some other kind of physical abuse. She daily went through mental and emotional abuse because of the names they called her, but lately, Master Jeremy had been punishing rebellion and disobedience with forced kisses or touches where she didn't want him to touch her. Who knew how far he would push the boundaries between punishment and sexual abuse tonight.

"You're late," Mistress Pamela snapped as Samantha stepped inside. She snatched the pot from the young woman, not even bothering to care that Samantha's lips had turned blue or that she trembled violently.

"Samantha!" She winced as Master Jeremy's voice reached her, but she managed to find enough strength in her weary, frozen legs to walk to the stairs and slowly make her way up them. "Come here, slave." She swallowed hard, walking stiffly into her room. She raised her chin defiantly, earning her a hard slap across the face.

Dazed by the force of Master Jeremy's hand connecting with her cheek, she couldn't fight back as he bodily lifted her up and threw her onto the bed. She recovered quickly, fighting against his hands as he began to undress her. She tried her best to block him by crossing her arms, using her legs to try and push him off of her. Such defiance earned her another slap across the face, this one causing her nose to bleed and paralyzing her once more. She lay limp and unable to fight as Master Jeremy's eager hands pulled at her slave clothes. She couldn't get her body to respond, blinking dumbly through the fog that covered her brain.

Then suddenly, his presence left her. He had done nothing more than push up her skirt and tug at her shirt. Perhaps he'd thought the bloody nose had been enough of a punishment. She slowly raised her head, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. Then she stopped, staring wide-eyed at the sight before her. Master Jeremy had been lifted off of her only to be held in midair by familiar gloved hands. Her cloaked rescuer from earlier had appeared once more. But why would he be here to help a simple slave like her?

"Where is it?" His voice rumbled from the shadows of the hood like the crash of the ocean's waves against the cliff shores. "Where is the sword, damn it?"

Her heart fell. He hadn't come for her at all. He'd come for some weapon her master had probably stolen from him.

Master Jeremy only laughed, that laugh turning to a grimace as a gloved hand closed around his neck. The cloaked man cast him aside as if he weighed no more than a child's toy, and Samantha let out an involuntary cry of surprise as Master Jeremy's body smashed into the dresser and demolished it. The cloaked figure turned, as if not realizing someone else had been in the room with the man he had just done away with. Samantha's heart began to race once more as those lime-green eyes fixed her with that piercing stare.

"I'm looking for a sword. Have you seen any in this household?"

She nodded slowly, swallowing. She opened her mouth, but only a squeak escaped her. She closed it, cleared her throat, and tried again. "O-over the fire place in Master Jeremy's bed chamber," she whispered.

The cloaked man gave her a curt nod, striding to the door and disappearing through it. He reappeared moments later with the sword in his hands.

"Jeremy? Jeremy, where are you? Abigail wants you to tuck her in again. Aren't you finished punishing that slave girl yet?"

"Time to go," the cloaked figure muttered, heading for the window.

"Wait! You're not really just going to leave me here with this dead guy, are you?" she cried. When he didn't even pause his step to acknowledge that he'd heard her, she knew he would do just that. He would abandon her just like that.

She growled, running after him and grabbing the sword. It struck her afterward that putting her hands on a sharp object probably wouldn't be the best idea. She didn't have to worry though because the sword hadn't been sharpened in a long time. The wound it would give could probably be best described as the same wound a butter knife would give if she were to run it across her palm. Grabbing the sword, however, did get his attention. He stopped, and his head whipped around so fast that the hood fell.

For a moment, Samantha couldn't breathe. His white hair only added to the eerie beauty of his face. His cheekbones were high, his jaw line well defined, and the little bit of stubble growing on his chin could barely be seen against his pale skin. Samantha could find no other way to describe him: he looked beautiful.

"Let go," he said calmly and quietly.

"Jeremy!" Pamela could be heard from somewhere downstairs.

"Take me with you," Samantha muttered, "or the sword stays with me."

"This sword has been in my family for generations! There is no fucking way you're going to convince me to leave it behind with _you_." He jerked it out of her hands, returning his attention back to the window.

Samantha grimaced and rubbed her hands against her dress to try and get the stinging to go down. She ran toward the window as he leapt out, and once again, before any brilliant ideas could cross her mind, she leapt out of the window right after him. As she fell, watching the ground come up very quickly to meet her, she came to the conclusion that the man that had unintentionally saved her probably had some sort of skill with jumping out of windows. She, however, did not, and if someone didn't catch her, she would be sporting injuries from a jump out of a three-story window.

She let out an "eep" as her midair journey suddenly ended about six feet away from the ground. She raised her head to find the man holding the back of her clothes, a bored look on his face. "This is really not worth it," he muttered, slinging her onto his back.

She clung to his shoulders without a thought, both of them looking up as a scream alerted them that Pamela had found her dead husband. Sure enough, the woman soon came to the window, screaming murder and demanding justice from the Darkness. The man Samantha clung to simply turned and ran. She had to cling tighter, her breath being pushed out of her by the speed of his running. She didn't even know anymore if this guy were even human. No human could run this fast with a 90-something pound weight on their back.

"Wh-where are we going?" she asked, teeth chattering as the chill wind blew around them. She couldn't believe he could stand this kind of weather. His cloak did little to keep him warm after all. She had a feeling it had been designed mainly for show.

"_I'm _going home, and out of responsibility, I'm taking you with me since you're obviously going to follow me anyway. I'd hate for you to try and swim after me; you'd probably end up in a block of ice in no time."

She pursed her lips stubbornly. "I can take care of myself, thank you very much."

"So I noticed when you leapt out of the window with no idea how you were going to land safely."

Her cheeks flushed. "All right, so intelligent thought escaped me for a moment there, but I do know how to take care of myself!"

"I'll believe that when I see it," he muttered. "Now, hush for a moment. I need to concentrate."

Samantha fell silent for only about five minutes. Then she asked, "What's your name anyway?"

He didn't answer for a few moments, and at first, Samantha didn't think he'd answered her at all. Then she realized the whisper on the wind had been him. "Daniel."

* * *

Samantha wouldn't have thought it possible to fall asleep on someone's back while they ran through the night. But morning surprised her as she opened her eyes to find herself lying beside a crackling fire. Daniel sat nearby, his luminescent eyes locked on the flames. He had removed his cloak, and it took Samantha a few minutes to realize he'd wrapped it around her. His clothing astonished her. It seemed too dark for the angelic face, and yet it suited him too in a way. He wore black cargo pants, the kind that had at least seven pockets if not more. His shirt did not look at all weather-appropriate. A simple tank with no sleeves, it hugged tightly to his chest. Add that to the boots and biker gloves, and she could only think of one way to describe him: soldier.

"You've decided to wake up now, have you?" He didn't even look at her, making her jump. She would've been prepared to hear his deep voice again if he'd looked at her first.

"Did you sleep at all?" she asked carefully, pushing the cloak away as she sat up. She immediately regretted that idea and tugged the cloak back around her. It was certainly warmer than it looked.

He shook his head, standing. He toed snow onto the fire, putting it out before he walked over to her. She didn't hesitate this time as he held out his hand to help her up, readjusting the cloak around her as she stood beside him. He helped her up onto his back without a word and took off running once more. Samantha had to hide her face against his shoulder as the falling snow stung at her cheeks and nose.

"How long will it take to get to your home?" she asked, speaking into his shoulder.

She felt the rumbling of his chuckle coming from his chest before she actually heard it. "We're heading for Athens right now to catch a ship to my home. It'll probably take a few weeks at most."

"Where is your home?"

He fell silent for a moment. Had her question triggered a bad memory or something? Then he spoke. "Crete."

She had heard of the place before. Vladimir ruled over it, and he had made it into the large tourist attraction it was now known as. "Why aren't we just taking a ship from the ports here in Sparta?" she asked.

"Hmm, that's a good question," he muttered. "It might be because I have a runaway slave strapped to my back, or it might be that I'm a wanted criminal. In fact, it could be both."

She snorted. "How could you be a wanted criminal? That doesn't even make sense. Crime runs rampant here."

"My crime is against the Darkness itself. He isn't very happy with me right now."

"Wait, the Darkness is actually a person?"

"Well, yeah. What, you thought a dark cloud ruled this kingdom?"

She growled. "Fine, he's a person. So, what'd you do to make him so angry? Sleep with his daughter?"

He laughed, glancing over his shoulder at her. "You're good. Yeah, actually I did. That, and I decided I didn't want to be in alliance with the Darkness anymore."

Her jaw dropped. "What? Okay, first the Darkness really is a person, and now he's got a daughter too?"

"Yep. He even had a wife at one point. He's just as human as you. Well, kind of."

"Mmhmm, he's just as human as you are, huh?"

He glanced back at her. "So, you've realized I'm not exactly human, hmm?" His luminescent green eyes were hypnotizing, and Sam had to bury her face into his shoulder once more. "All right, so I'm not human. Not completely, anyway. I have some abilities because of who I am, but I'm pretty much human otherwise."

"What kind of abilities?" she mumbled, closing her eyes.

He grinned a bit. "It'd take too long to explain them all. Why don't you wait until we get on the ship."

She sighed. "Yeah, you just don't want to tell me."

"And what if I don't? Could you blame me? I don't even know you."

She made a face. "All right, fine. I'll wait for the ship."

Daniel set her on her feet as they neared the port, frowning a bit. "We'll have to get you new clothes. You'll attract too much attention dressed like that."

Samantha put her hands on her hips, glaring at him. "Oh, please, I'm not interested in making a fashion statement." A passing man let out a wolf-whistle, making her whirl around to glare at him. "Hey, come back here, and try that again!" she shouted. Daniel rolled his eyes, grabbing her arm and dragging her off to a nearby clothing store. "Yeah, you better walk away! I'll beat your ass!"

"You embarrass me," he muttered, pulling clothes off the rack and tossing them into Samantha's arms.

"What? Oh, please, like you care if I embarrass you."

"At the moment, you're in my company. It matters to my appearance if you embarrass me." He tossed yet another garment onto Samantha's growing pile.

"Oh, hell no. I will not wear this," she said, throwing it back at him.

"Why not?" he asked, catching said item.

"Hello, it's pink, _and_ it's a skirt. I've had enough of wearing what people want me to wear." She dropped the pile she had been holding, searching through the clothing rack. She grabbed a long-sleeved, button-up purple top and a pair of black jeans.

"That's all you're going to try on?"

"Yep." She disappeared into one of the curtained rooms and emerged fifteen minutes in the ensemble she had chosen. "Well?" She was shocked to find him on his knees outside the room, clutching his stomach. "Hey… are you okay?"

"Just peachy," he muttered, gritting his teeth. "Here," he held out a few bills, "pay for your outfit, and let's get out of here."

Samantha ran for the register, paying and walking back to Daniel. He looked like he was in pain, though he was standing now. "Are you sure you're okay?"

He looked at her with those luminescent eyes, and she had to look away. "It's nothing I can't handle. Let's go."

* * *

The pier in Athens was busy, but Daniel weaved through the people with expert steps. Samantha struggled to keep up with him, stumbling when she bumped into people and ducking beneath arms just to keep up with him. Whatever pain that had been caused him while they were in the store had only increased, but Daniel moved as if the pain didn't bother him in the least.

"Keep up!" he called out, glancing back for a moment. Samantha narrowed her eyes in annoyance. "We're almost there."

A large ship was loading up about 500 feet ahead, and Daniel was making a bee-line for it. She was shocked when she managed to catch up to Daniel before realizing he was clutching his stomach again. "Daniel?"

"I can manage, Samantha. Let's just get to the ship." He grasped her hand, pulling her along beside him.

Samantha could barely keep up with him, stumbling on her feet as Daniel pulled her up onto the ship's deck. He released her hand as he spoke to the captain, and she gazed around her in curiosity. She had never been on a ship before, and it felt nearly unreal to be standing on the deck. Daniel grasped her arm, dragging her along behind him as he headed for the cabin.

"Where are we going?"

"The captain agreed to let us rent out the cabin. I'd made plans earlier to simply sleep with the crew, but that won't exactly be possible now that I have a stowaway."

Her jaw dropped. "I could easily keep up with the crew!"

He turned, brow raised. "We're at sea with a bunch of men who probably haven't seen or touched a woman in months. Do you honestly think you could sleep safely with those people?"

Crossing her arms, she frowned. "Like I've been telling you, I do know how to take care of myself."

"So I've seen. You stupidly grabbed my sword, leapt out of a window, and if I recall, when I first came into the room, Jeremy Manson was about to violate you." He shook his head. "Forgive me if I can't exactly trust your word on this matter."

She couldn't think of anything to retort in return and turned her head away. Daniel shook his head and walked away from her. His legs gave out beneath him, and Samantha stared open-mouthed as he crumpled to the floor.

"Are you okay?" she asked, running to his side. His eyes were closed, a look of pain on his face, and he did not answer her. "I really hope you're not dying," she muttered, biting her lip.


	2. Chapter 2: The Journey to Crete

**Author's Note:** _Quite a response for something that I didn't think was going to do that well. You guys always manage to surprise me. I had plans to update "Fallen Angel" first, but of course the reviews for this story were far more compelling. It always helps when one of the reviewers contacts you to further gush about your great story (xsugarxblossomx) so if you want a chapter every week, you might want to start contacting me more. Haha, no I'm just kidding._

_Hopefully, I can live up to all this hype my story is attracting. I really have no idea where this story is headed. Granted, I can see a romance developing between Samantha and Daniel (the two characters stare at this author as though she has grown another head), but that romance is further down the line. I'm going to have to think of something for these two to do until then. Of course, they are going to be on a boat for at least two weeks… That will be quite interesting._

**Reviews:** xsugarxblossomx, Sunshine-Midnight123, Harley, Matryoshka Doll.

**Chapter 2:** The Journey to Crete

Daniel woke slowly, realizing he was lying on the floor. His head felt heavy, and it felt as if weights had been attached to his eyelids. For a while, he lay there fighting with the weight before his eyes managed to open. Samantha was leaning over him, hand poised to poke him. It was not the kind of sight he wanted to wake up to. Nor was it one he was used to waking up to. Groaning, he slapped her hand away.

"Hey!"

"Don't be stupid," he muttered, sitting up. "How long have I been out?"

"A couple of hours. Maybe four."

Sitting up, he ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. Samantha was still staring at him. "What?" he asked finally.

"Your hair… It's black now. And your eyes—"

"I know," he said, looking away. "It's like this every week."

Her jaw dropped. "You mean to tell me that you go from the whole white hair and green eyes thing to this," she motioned to his hair, "every _week_?"

"It alternates."

"Why the hell didn't you tell me this?"

He looked at her, eyes narrowed. "Firstly, it wasn't necessary to explain my private life to you." He held up his hand as her mouth opened, "Secondly, I hardly know you so _it wasn't necessary to explain my private life to you_."

Her mouth snapped shut, and she scowled. "Seems pretty fucking important to tell me that you're just suddenly going to change hair colors," she muttered.

"Don't worry about it." He pushed himself to his feet, looking around him. "Well, this certainly leaves something to be desired."

The cabin's walls and flooring were wood. A desk at one end was covered in papers, maps, a compass, and other sailing devices. Only one bed sat in the room—a four-poster wooden monster took up the other end of the cabin. There was a door between the desk and the bed leading to the restroom. Samantha stood watching as he examined the room, fiddling with her right sleeve.

"What?" he asked, catching her staring at him.

"You said you were going to explain." He stared blankly at her. "Your abilities."

Heaving a sigh, he walked over to the desk and picked up the map on top. "You really are very curious for a slave."

"We're not discussing me right now. You said you would."

"All right, all right." Rolling his eyes, he sat down in the captain's desk chair and kicked up his feet on the desk with the map still in his hands. His gaze skimmed over it. "I'm sure you've noticed that I have excellent reflexes and speed beyond that of a normal human being."

"Yeah, I got that when you leapt out of the building then caught me when I followed after you."

"There are several other things that I can do. It's easier to demonstrate. Do you mind?" She shook her head, sitting down on the bed. Daniel stood, set the map down and picked up the captain's compass. "Lancer won't be pleased," he muttered. Samantha could have sworn she saw a grin pass his lips. He held the compass in one hand, and she gasped as ice formed around the item. "This skill really comes in quite useful in hot climates too. I can easily cool down my body using this skill."

"What about other people?"

His brows furrowed. "I've never tried it, but sure, I suppose I could."

"And your other abilities?"

"Unless you know how to swim, I don't think it would be a good idea to put holes in the ship," he said, a smirk playing at his lips. "Now, let's talk about you." He sat beside her on the bed, regarding her with crystal blue eyes.

Samantha had to look away. Those blue eyes were just as unnerving as the lime-green ones she had barely gotten used to. "Why do your eyes and hair change every week?"

"Don't change the subject, Samantha." He tilted his head. "How long have you been a slave?"

She shook her head. "For as long as I can remember," she whispered.

"Has it been with the same family this whole time?" She nodded, glancing up at him. Her face flushed, and she had to look away at the gaze in his eyes. Where was the annoyed man from yesterday? Why did he have to look at her like that now? "What did you do for the Manson household?"

"At first my duties began with taking care of Pamela's needs. Then when she had her daughter, I took care of her. Eventually they just piled on more and more duties." She made a face. "Like going to go get flour in the snow."

"When did Jeremy start abusing you?"

"That man's been chasing after me ever since I got boobs," she muttered, looking up just in time to catch Daniel glancing at her chest. "Did you just…?" He looked up, and she raised her hand and smacked him across the face. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

He rubbed his cheek, frowning. "You really are a spitfire. I can see why Jeremy would want to beat you into submission."

She leapt up, her jaw dropping. "Are you serious?" Her hands fisted, and she growled. "You really are such an asshole sometimes!" Then she stalked off to the deck.

Daniel grimaced, rubbing at his cheek again. "Why do I get the feeling I just put my foot in my mouth?"

* * *

Samantha didn't speak to Daniel again for the rest of the day, ignoring him or avoiding him anytime he tried to get close to her. How exactly could he explain to her that he didn't know how to deal with someone like her? He rarely traveled with anyone, and when he did, they were usually men. The few women he had traveled with had only been used for carnal needs, and none of them were so fiery like her. She was like a completely different species, alien to him. Which may have been what made her so interesting.

He saw now, though, that the spitfire attitude was simply a cover. She had had a hard life in which the only way to survive was to hide feelings and withdraw into herself. And he had insulted her and possibly even hurt her feelings, not that she would admit it. He didn't see her again until he was heading to bed. She was already in the cabin, letting out a shriek of surprise when he entered. He soon understood why when he found her standing half-naked in the middle of the room.

"Get out!" she shrieked, throwing something at him.

He only realized what it was when her pants landed on his head. Grumbling, he pulled them off his head only to find Sam in his face, pushing him out of the room. "What the hell?" He grabbed her shoulder, pushing her back into the room and stepping inside. "This cabin isn't just for you, Samantha." He threw her pants at her, and she quickly used them like a blanket to cover her rather shapely legs. "Besides, that was the only outfit we bought you. What exactly were you planning to sleep in?"

Cheeks flushed, she glared at him. "I was planning to just use the shirt."

Daniel's brows rose then he smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. "You do realize there's only one bed in this room, and two people will have to use it."

She glanced at the bed then back at him, her eyes widening. "But… but…"

He rolled his eyes. "Calm down. The bed is easily large enough for us to share. Let me get you something to sleep in." Resting his hand on the doorknob, he chanced one last glance at her legs before closing the door and walking away in search of the captain.

It took a bit of searching, but he had eventually found a spare shirt and a pair of breeches that Samantha could wear. When he walked into the cabin again, she was sitting at the desk, staring at the door. She didn't move when Daniel walked into the room, and Daniel walked up to her, setting the shirt and pants in front of her.

"I managed to find these for you. Do you want me to leave the room again, or can you manage to change in the bathroom?"

She shook her head, standing and gathering up the clothes. "I can change in there."

Daniel opened his mouth to speak, but she had already disappeared into the other room. "Dammit," he muttered. "Why is this so hard?"

He had never had to apologize before. In fact, he was just as much a rebel as Samantha was. Just as she tried to fight for independence in a slave's life, he had fought for independence in his own life. They had so much in common, but he had grown up different. He was used to getting his way and not hearing any argument from anyone. Samantha was used to being ordered around and abused when she didn't obey.

Samantha opened the door, stepping into the room. The clothes didn't fit her right and sagged on her. Her left shoulder was uncovered as the sleeve slipped down her arm. He stepped toward her, and she turned her face away, squaring her shoulders. It was the stance of someone prepared for injury, the stance of someone who knew hitting a superior was wrong. But why? Daniel wasn't her superior, and he certainly wasn't her master. Instinct drove this familiar stance out of her; she had been a slave for far too long.

"I'm not going to hit you," he muttered, tugging up her shirt sleeve before resting his hands on her shoulders. "I wanted to apologize for what I'd done and said earlier." She turned her head toward him, lilac eyes gazing up at him in confusion. "You were right; I shouldn't have looked at your chest, and I certainly shouldn't have said what I did afterward. No person deserves to go through what you have gone through." Pulling her toward him, he held her to him in a gentle hug. "I suppose… I've been under the Darkness' power for too long."

He could feel her tense in his arms, could hear the short breaths she took. What exactly was she expecting him to do? "I-I'm really tired," she whispered. "Can you let go?"

Could she really be that afraid of him? He released her, watching her step back and walk quickly to the bed. It was as if she thought the bed could shield her from whatever harm she was expecting from him, and she dove into the blankets. Shaking his head, he realized now that getting Samantha to trust him would be a long and difficult journey. Where was the fiery, angry girl from earlier? Now she looked so broken and scared.

* * *

Being at sea was perhaps one of the few things Daniel did enjoy in life. And helping on the ship was even better. He stood on deck pulling ropes, enjoying the salty air, and laughing with the sailors. Sometimes he thought being a sailor would be the best thing he could ever do. Obviously his father had other ideas. Thinking of home brought Samantha to mind, and he turned his head to look at the young woman leaning against the railing of the port bow. Although she'd gone back to her usual spit-fire, rebellious self, Daniel couldn't help feeling like he'd seen a glimpse of the girl hiding inside. But Samantha made it obvious that was the only glimpse he was going to get.

He grinned as he remembered this morning. Obviously Samantha wasn't use to male company beside her, much less a warm body. Not only had she snuggled up against him last night to stay warm, but she'd discovered just what men meant when they talked about morning wood. Samantha was adorably virginal when it came to certain sexual phrases. He could still remember the way she'd screamed and leapt out of bed, waking him too early for his liking. It wasn't his fault there was only one bed in the captain's quarters, but he'd received a pillow in the face while trying to explain he wasn't going to try and take advantage of her.

Another week had already passed, and Daniel was back to the white-haired, lime-green-eyed image he preferred. He still couldn't understand the pain that came along with the change in form, but he honestly couldn't care right now. What mattered was keeping Samantha from attracting too much unwanted attention while on board Lancer's ship. She was viewed as an open target among the crew, and Daniel had stopped more than four attempts just this morning to cajole her into… something he doubted she would consider. But she was an alluring image, one that even Daniel had a hard time rejecting. Especially because he'd caught a glimpse of those creamy legs more than once.

Samantha turned her head to look at him, and it was then he realized he'd been staring. Raising his hand, he waved at her. Instead of waving back, she jerked her head around and returned her gaze to the sea. That girl may look like all kinds of soft, but she had the attitude of a sharp axe. Daniel shrugged then turned his attention back to ship tasks. If she wanted to be a bitch after everything he'd done for her, fine. They'd be at Crete soon, and he could abandon her at port.

"Where in Crete do you live?" Jumping out of one's skin was a very appropriate phrase just then because Daniel felt as if he'd left his behind on deck when Samantha came up behind him.

"You'll see soon enough," he said, taking up a rope that was tossed in his direction. "What makes you so interested now, anyway?" He glanced at her; she looked calm.

"I've just… never been so far away from Sparta before. I was born there. I always thought I was going to die there."

"And you're homesick?" She pegged him with a look that could clearly say, "You are an idiot, aren't you?" What was it about being around her that could make him say stupid things? "Er… right." He sighed, passing the ropes off to another sailor so he could concentrate on telling her something about his home. "I ran away from home when I was ten," he admitted. "That was over seven years ago, and I haven't been back since."

"Why did you leave?"

"Complications with my father."

She crossed her arms over her chest, biting her lip. "Isn't it going to be bad timing then to be dragging me along?"

"Hey, _you_ followed me. I didn't offer to take you anywhere," he argued.

"Yeah, but you also didn't have to drag me all the way out here to Crete!"

"I'm sorry, you would've preferred to remain in Sparta or Athens where they would've eventually caught you and killed you for murdering your master Jeremy?" he asked, sarcasm dripping from every word.

Her jaw dropped. "I didn't kill him! That was you!"

"And you really think they would believe that considering you have no proof, no witnesses, and certainly not my say on the subject?"

She growled, her hands clenched into fists. "All I was trying to say was thanks for saving my life. Instead, you have to go and be an asshole about the whole damn thing. Just drop me anywhere once we get to Crete. I can't stand to be around you for much longer." Then she stomped away.

Daniel slapped a hand to his face, growling and muttering incoherently. Why did she have to be so difficult? And why did he turn everything into a fight between them? "Damn her, and damn me," he muttered, stomping off. He needed something to keep his hands busy, especially now that they'd already started glowing with lime green fire.

* * *

Crete was a busy place, and the port was perhaps the busiest. While the sailors took care of unloading their ship, Daniel kept a close eye on Samantha. She was still pissed at him, and he wouldn't put it past her to run off and disappear into the crowds. Although Sparta was a far more dangerous place, a young woman like her wouldn't make it very long in Crete. No place was perfect; there were criminals in any town. Once he'd gotten their things gathered up, he led her off the ship.

"So, where are you taking me?" she asked. Were he a weaker man, the ice in her voice might've made him wince.

Instead, he only glanced at her before looking away. "My home," he muttered.


End file.
